


Auction

by MemoryPalaceofWillGraham (JaxCat)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hannibal in BSHCI, M/M, Season 3, Slight Canon Divergence, implied Hannigram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxCat/pseuds/MemoryPalaceofWillGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hannibal had been sentenced and locked away in the BSHCI, a public auction would be held of the contents of his house and office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auction

“Your effects will be sold at an open auction today. The proceeds will go to the families of your victims.”

After this announcement, Dr. Frederick Chilton waited for Hannibal Lecter’s reaction. The auction had been hotly anticipated for months now. Freddie Lounds had a countdown to it prominently displayed on TattleCrime.com. Newspaper editorials had argued back and forth about whether this would benefit the families, bringing them closure and monetary compensation, or if it was just more ghoulish spectacle.  

With Dr. Bloom’s approval, Chilton had expressly forbidden any of the orderlies mentioning the auction to Lecter. Any newspapers that advertised or discussed the auction were removed from Lecter’s daily pile. Chilton had been surprised that Dr. Bloom had agreed to all this; he thought that in some obscure way Alana was trying to protect Lecter’s feelings. It was no matter; the important thing was that it gave him the chance to spring the news at the last minute. 

Chilton hoped for some sign that Lecter, with his outrageous tastes and love of exquisite things, would show some emotion at hearing that his worldly goods would be divided up, fought over by a morbidly curious public. The thought of his own house pawed over, his possessions being bidded on like they were no better than a old tractor at a county fair, curdled his stomach. His eyes greedily absorbed the figure behind the clear barrier, waiting eagerly for any twitch, any tell, that he would be able to spin into a new paper.

Lecter was sketching, the only sound from his cell the soft skritching of a charcoal stick.

“Your suits. Your furniture. The contents of your library. Probably even the bathroom fixtures. I wouldn’t be surprised. And your kitchen! I expect there to be quite a bidding war over your knives.” 

There was no response.

“Well? Did you hear me?” The moment he said the words, Chilton regretted them. He could hear the shrillness of his voice, his frustration evident. 

The skritching stopped. Lecter wiped his fingers free of the charcoal on a rag, then neatly folded it back up. He stood. Chilton leaned in, clenching his teeth together to keep from blurting anything else out. He watched as Lecter carefully picked up the sketch, laying it gently on the floor, away from where any errant footsteps could mar it. Two other sketches already lined the wall.

“Frederick. Would you let one of the orderlies know that when they have a moment today, I will have a few sketches that require fixative?” Lecter glanced up, his look dismissive. He then settled back at his table, pulled another sheet of paper towards him, and once again picked up his charcoal. 

“Thank you for your visit, Frederick. That will be all.” 

Chilton could already see a form taking shape on the paper. Lecter began to hum.

 

~~~

 

“Hello, Alana. It has been quite a while since your last visit.”

“Hannibal. My duties as head administrator have been taking up much of my attention lately. As I am sure you are aware.” 

Lecter had been lying down when she entered, reading the latest issue of _The_ _American Journal of Psychiatry_. The staples had been removed and the loose pages he had finished with lay beside his cot. At Alana Bloom’s approach, he put his current page aside and rose. He came to stand a precise two feet from the glass wall, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Paperwork and administrative minutiae. I am sure even teaching classes at Georgetown would be preferable to that.” A pause. “How is Margot?”

Alana almost responded. Her mouth opened, a tumble of words fighting up her throat. _Margot is fine, Margot is lovely and becoming more lovely every day, Margot is the only light that seems to break through the blackness filling my head. How dare you say her name. How can you even ask about her? How can you stand here and ask me about Margot when I really know you want to hear about Will?_  

Lecter smiled gently. “This isn’t a trick, Alana. I think of both you and Margot fondly. I do hope she is well.” 

“Yes, she is. Thank you.” Alana smoothed down the front of her blouse before folding her hands, falling into an imitation of Lecter’s stance. Her fingers gripped each other tightly. She caught herself, readjusted. Took a steadier and more powerful stance, letting her hands fall open and relaxed at her sides. 

“Frederick tells me you have him running requests to the orderlies.”

“He becomes so upset if I don’t say something when he comes down here. I was hoping to give him a chance to feel useful. I know he must be quite bored, with his change in position.” 

Alana felt a smile pull at her lips and bit it back. 

“I’m here about the auction, Hannibal. I wanted to tell you about it myself this morning. But I feel like Frederick has already been here.”

“Yes. I believe he was hoping for a reaction. Or perhaps he only wanted to know whether I thought any of my outfits would suit him. We are not of a size, but a fine tailor could take care of that.” 

“But everything you owned...Is there nothing? Is there truly nothing that you care about at the auction?”

Lecter waited. He made Alana spell it out. 

“I thought...perhaps if there was some small object...or some of your books? I could...”

“A reward? A pat on the head for being such a well-behaved guest?” 

“Hannibal. You are not a guest here.” 

Lecter looked at her steadily. Alana licked her lips, for a moment almost apologizing for the rudeness of her statement. 

Taking pity, Lecter released her from his gaze. He moved over to his table. Several sketches lay there, still slightly shimmering with the newly applied layer of fixative. He adjusted one slightly, lining it up. 

“They are just things. I can revisit them all whenever I want to. I do admit, I have hoped that my harpsichord and theremin would go to a conservatory. They are such fine instruments. They are meant to be played, not to gather dust in some collection.” 

He drummed his fingers briefly, appearing to come to a decision. 

“Alana.” 

He voice was even, his eyes still fixed on the sketches. Alana found herself approaching the glass, closer than she knew she should. 

“In one of my guest bedrooms. There were a few changes of clothing. They may not even be part of the lots. Just simple pants and shirts. They were Will’s.” Since Lecter had been incarcerated, Alana had not heard him mention Will once. A muscle jumped minutely in his jaw. He took a breath. 

“There were times when he had stayed over after dinner, when the hour was too late for him to safely drive back to Wolf Trap.”

Now Lecter did look up again. Alana felt questions on the tip of her tongue, but waited. She knew she wouldn’t receive any answers.

“The public can gawk at my furniture. They can run their hands over my suits and imagine serving their own dinner guests on my best china. But they cannot have Will. As I said, the clothes were ordinary. However, clothing not of my size, in my guest room closet...well. It could lead to lurid speculation. And thanks to Ms. Lounds and the stories she has printed about my relationship with him...I am sure some would draw a connection. Alana,I would ask you to do this one thing. If they do have the clothing. See if the lots can be withdrawn. They can’t have Will.”

Lecter had turned fully away at the last, his voice subdued. Alana walked to the door, pausing after she opened it. She looked at his rigid back.

“Okay, Hannibal. They won’t have Will.”

As she closed the door behind her, her last glimpse was of Lecter’s shoulders relaxing.

 

~~~

 

When his cell phone rang, Will Graham silenced and ignored it. He ignored it as he had been ignoring most things that day. He sat on the cabin’s porch, feet kicked up on the railing. The ring wasn’t Molly’s ringtone, and all he wanted was to continue gazing at the blue sky. The air carried the smell of oncoming snow. He thought about how he should drive into town and get a few more bags of ice melt and pick up some more batteries. He thought about how he should chop extra wood now, so that he could give his shoulder a chance to stop hurting before trying to sleep.

He thought about Molly and Walter. He thought about them driving, on the road to Molly’s parent’s house. He thought about Molly singing along to her 60s rock playlist while Walter laughed and groaned exaggeratedly. He knew it would be probably three more hours before they stopped for the night and wondered if he would hear from them. He hoped he would. 

Later, the dogs returned from running around the property, piling themselves around Will’s chair. They _wuffed_ and panted and settled down. A flock of geese passed by overhead, silhouettes against the sunset.

Finally, Will pulled his phone out. Dialed up the voicemail and put it on speaker. He looked at the darkening sky and Freddie Lounds’s voice disturbed the silence he had pulled around himself. She was asking if she could get a comment on the auction that was held today, the auction of Hannibal Lecter’s personal items. She wanted to know if he would share with her readers how this made him feel.

Will deleted the voicemail and pocketed his phone.

He thought about the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cabinet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This idea came me to during the Hannibal prop auction. It has been quite a long time since I've posted anything I've written, so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Kudos and comments would be lovely and please feel free to come say "hello" at [my tumblr](http://memorypalaceofwillgraham.tumblr.com/)


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